


But I Wanna Know For Sure

by LayALioness



Series: Pour Me the Remembering Wine [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LayALioness/pseuds/LayALioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy finds out he has a nemesis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Wanna Know For Sure

**Author's Note:**

> youmakemyheartsinggg asked for "you keep giving my business bad reviews on yelp so i track you down to ask what your problem is" and I'm sure this isn't what she was thinking, but the idea of vineyard rivals was too good to pass up.

“It’s not funny,” Bellamy grumbles, petulant, as he refreshes the page _again_.

“It’s a little funny,” Clarke says, not looking up from her kindle. She’d been the supportive fiancé for the first three days. Now it’s just getting ridiculous.

“It’s _not_ ,” he argues. “Who does groundcage322 think he is?”

At this point, Clarke realizes she’s probably not going to get any more reading done, until Bellamy calms down. Which is a little frustrating, since she’s only just found out about the new Harper Lee book, and it’s due back to the virtual library in two days.

“Have you considered that’s maybe not his real name?” she asks, and he glowers over at her.

“I’m aware,” he huffs. “It’s just—he _keeps_ giving bad reviews, and I don’t even know _why_! He said my pinot grigio is too overwhelmingly dry, but—we don’t even _make_ pinot grigio!”

Clarke sighs a little before crossing over to him, taking the tablet out of his hands, and setting it on the coffee table. Then she slides into his lap.

“You’re just trying to distract me,” he accuses, as she curls her fingers through his hair.

Clarke grins, leaning forward to nose at his neck until his breath hitches, and his hands reach for her hips on instinct. “Is it working?”

“I’m still aggravated,” he says, stubborn.

“That’s okay,” she says, kissing him. “Angry sex is hot.”

But unfortunately, Clarke can’t just jump him every time he gets another poor yelp review from groundcage322, and it’s another week before she’s finally had enough of it. She’s had to renew her book _twice_ , which she makes a point to never do, on principle.

So, in a fit of desperation, she does the first thing she can think of.

She calls Raven.

“Tell me you have a top-secret Navy thing that lets you find out who uses a certain username,” Clarke says, in place of hello. Raven isn’t pleased with that.

“Hey, Raven. It’s been a while since we last talked, how are you? Sorry I’ve been missing _all_ our skype dates just so I can go on real dates with my boyfriend, who I’m getting married to in like two months so it’s not like he doesn’t get all of my time, anyway.”

“Hey, Raven, it’s been a while,” Clarke says dutifully. “Now tell me you have a top-secret Navy thing to find out who’s been hate-stalking my fiancé’s vineyard.”

Raven chokes on a laugh, clearly not meaning to. She wants to stay annoyed with Clarke, but apparently Bellamy being trolled via yelp reviews is just too much. “Dude, what has happened to your life?”

Clarke sighs, glancing over at her kindle a little dismally. “I’m hoping you can help me figure that out.”

“Alright, alright.” There’s the sound of Raven cracking her knuckles, and then the pitter-patter of her typing, because she always hits the keys way too hard. Raven is a keyboard’s worst nightmare. “I’ll see what I can do—but you owe me for this, Griffin, and one day I’m gonna collect.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Clarke chirps, and then adds “You’re the best!” for extra incentive.

“I know,” Raven agrees, and hangs up on her.

Raven calls her back the next day. It’s early afternoon, so normally Bellamy would be out in the field or one of the barn cellars, but earlier that day one of the new guys, Sterling, accidentally spilled half a barrel over Bellamy’s head. It was some of the cheaper stuff, so it wasn’t as bad as it might’ve been, and Bellamy took it pretty well all things considered. But Sterling still cried, and then Monroe slipping in the spill, taking Miller down with her. It was a mess.

So when Raven calls, Bellamy’s in the shower washing fermented grapes from his hair, and Clarke tugs him out so he can be a part of the conversation.

“Are you aware your fiancé has a nemesis?” Raven asks, after Clarke puts her on speakerphone.

Bellamy frowns, hair still dripping down his face and neck. He’d just thrown on Clarke’ lavender robe, because she was rushing him, and she can’t really stop staring. It’s a good look for him. “ _I_ wasn’t aware I had a nemesis,” he says. “Why do I have a nemesis? Who are they?”

“I can’t tell you specifically _who_ , but all the reviews came from a place called Wallace Wines, over in Mt. Weather. It’s like, forty-five minutes away.”

“Have you ever heard of them?” Clarke asks, and Bellamy shakes his head, spraying water everywhere.

“Want me to take em out?” Raven asks, and Bellamy chokes a little.

“You can _do_ that?” he asks, clearly awed. “With, like—is it drones?”

There’s half a pause of silence, before Raven cackles into the phone. “ _Jesus_ , what do you think I _do_? No, it’s not drones! I meant do you want me to hack their server and shut down that yelp account.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Clarke muses, and Raven hums.

“Have you ever heard of the Patriot Act, Clarke? It’s not illegal if it’s for the greater good.”

“You’re talking about a weird vineyard rivalry,” Clarke argues, and she can practically _hear_ Raven shrug.

“That’s the greater good. I’m protecting your assets. But, fine, whatever, you two probably want to fight it out with dueling pistols or something.”

“Dueling pistols are way too unpredictable,” Bellamy says. “Broadswords are where it’s at.”

“ _God_ , okay, that’s my cue. Bye, nerds.” She hangs up without another word, and Clarke glances over at Bellamy, who’s googling Wallace Wines on his phone.

Wells flies into town that weekend, because he’s never taken a day off so he has a lot of vacation time stored up, and because he has a lot of ideas for the wedding that he claims can’t be fully explained over the phone.

Octavia goes with Clarke to pick him up, because Wells and Octavia have formed a sort of bond over their two favorite people getting married. Also, Wells somehow got into the whole Real Housewives thing, so they like to call each other after each episode, to freak out.

Clarke tells him about the whole rivalry thing at the cake testing that afternoon, while Wells tries not to fall asleep on his plate. Maya, the pastry chef, keeps looking like she’s ready to dive in and rescue the mixed berry pavlova, before he collapses.

“Shouldn’t you be planning a wedding, not a murder?” he asks, amused, taking another small bite of the frosting, which seems to be the only part he eats. Octavia, meanwhile, is demanding samples of everything in the shop, because she has the best _palette_ , which Clarke’s fine with. She’d be fine with a vanilla pound cake, to be honest, as long as everything else about the day went fine.

“It’s not murder if it’s revenge,” she argues and, to her horror, realizes that Bellamy’s probably said that exact thing.

“Pretty sure it is,” Wells grins. He’s excited about the wedding, and Clarke knows that it’s because he’s a romantic, and he’s _always_ excited about weddings—weddings are Wells’s second favorite thing, behind mold—but she can’t help thinking it’s also because Raven will be there, and he hasn’t seen Raven since she and Clarke graduated University. And even then, he’d only been visiting for two days, and at the time Raven had been in a weird, complicated thing with her TA, so they didn’t get to _really_ see each other.

But now they’re actual _friends_ , and they’re both single, and Clarke knows Raven’s been counting down the days too, until they’re finally in the same place again.

He probably has some weird spores for her in his bag, and she’ll pack him some Cold War-era military device that she shouldn’t have had access to.

“Well, regardless, we’re not getting any wedding planning done until the whole thing’s sorted out. Bellamy’s becoming _obsessed_.”

“You act like this isn’t the only thing you’ve been talking about for the past several hours,” Wells muses, and Clarke flicks a frosted flower at his head. Somewhere across the store, Maya cries out in dismay.

“Shut up,” Clarke says, petulant, sliding down in her chair. “Fine, tell me about your fairy tale wedding plans.”

But she keeps having to ask him to repeat himself, because she can’t get Wallace Wines out of her head.

Bellamy is stalking the Wallace Wines facebook page when she gets home, and shuts his laptop without a word.

“What the hell, Clarke,” he grumbles, but she’s already pulling him towards the door.

“I’ve had enough of this,” she declares, snatching the car keys up from the end table. “We’re driving down to Mt. Weather, and asking groundcage322 what his problem is. Or hers,” she adds with a shrug.

And Bellamy must have just been waiting for her to mention it, because he’s typing the address in their GPS within the moment.

Wallace Wines vineyard looks a lot like Bellamy’s, except generically worse, because it’s _not_ his. There’s a small gravel lot off to the side for parking, and then they march up to the first building they see, an old tobacco barn refurbished into a cellar, with _maple_ barrels instead of oak, which Clarke decides means that Bellamy is fundamentally a better winemaker.

She might be biased, but. She’s pretty confident.

There’s a tall, skinny man inside, who looks like what Clarke imagines a toothpick might look like, if turned into a person. She clears her throat so that he turns, taking them in with a frown.

“What’re you doing back here?” he demands, and it’s his tone really, more than anything, that makes her snap.

“Are you groundcage322?” she asks, and the man looks a little taken aback, but not because he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“Who’s asking?”

“We run Sky Vineyard,” Bellamy says, and Clarke tries very hard not to flush, like she does whenever he involves her in the business. He always sounds so matter-of-fact, like _of course_ she runs it too, because she’s with him.

She watches the man’s upper lip curl up in a sneer, and she glowers.

“We’ve come to tell you to stop,” she says primly, and he laughs.

“And if I don’t want to?”

“What the hell is your problem?” Bellamy asks, and he doesn’t sound annoyed so much as bewildered, like he really can’t understand why this man has made the life choices he has. “You don’t even know us!”

“I don’t need to,” the man says. “You’re taking our customer base. I’m taking it back. That’s just business.”

Clarke glares; it seems he’s made her mind up for her. Frankly, she just doesn’t have time for this sort of thing. She’s getting _married_ , and she’ll be damned if this strange toothpick of a man does anything to sabotage that.

“Then I guess it’s just business if I call the police,” she muses, and he frowns.

“On what grounds?”

“Libel is illegal—” she realizes belatedly that she doesn’t know his actual name, so she just wings it. “Mr. Wallace. And a lot of the claims you’ve made against us are completely untrue. So I suggest you delete that account and all your crack reviews, or I’ll shove a lawsuit down your throat so far you won’t be able to drink your own wine.”

And then she grabs Bellamy’s hand, turns on her heel, and marches out towards their car without a word.

Bellamy, of course, is elated, and she has to actively push him back into his own seat when he starts to make out with her. “That was fucking amazing,” he says, as she pulls back onto the highway. “ _You’re_ fucking amazing.”

Well, then she _has_ to let him kiss her. But only on the cheek, because she is a responsible driver.

“I thought you didn’t want to duel him,” he teases. “What changed your mind?”

“We just don’t have time for a blood feud,” she grins over at him, and he squeezes her hand. “We have a wedding to plan.”


End file.
